A Lady Friend
by funnybluebox
Summary: Teen Sherlock is accused of having a girlfriend and is asked to bring her to dinner with the Holmes. Sherlock and John team up to find someone who will be able to last the night. -More chapters will be added- No Johnlock just great friendship.


With a flourish, Sherlock Holmes burst into the breakfast room and took a seat at the head of the table. His older brother Mycroft was already seated and Sherlock saw that he hadn't waited for him. His plate was empty and the newspaper was unfurled in his hands.

"Good morning Mycroft. I trust you had a pleasant morning?" Mycroft lowered his paper and his eyes shrewdly analyzed Sherlock as he spoke. Sherlock saw his brother's eyes linger at his pale fingers where they rested on the table and folded them onto his lap. "I do believe I wished you a good morning. I would like to think that the same courtesy would be returned."

"When do I get to meet her?"

"Her?"

"I would like you to bring her home soon. I know Mummy was getting quite worried at how antisocial you always were. Invite her to dinner sometime."

"I do hate to be rude dear brother but to whom are you referring?"

"Your new lady friend."

"I believe you are under the impression that I am seeing someone, which I can assure you is false. I wonder where, though, you got that idea."

"No use lying to me Sherlock. I already know, just bring her over. I'll be civil, I promise, but I cannot speak for Father."

Sherlock sighed. "You still have not greeted me this morning."

"You stopped wearing the family ring which was my first indicator that something was amiss." Mycroft started. "I'm assuming you don't want her to know our family status for some reason? Next you began to play your violin less frequently and then when you did you composed slow songs rather than the usual tiff you normally inflict upon us all." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You eat less, you read less, and you sleep less even though you have no interesting experiments that are ongoing currently. Conclusion; you are distracted by a feminine interest."

Mycroft returned to his paper as though there was no room for argument and Sherlock's mind started whirling. He indeed did not have a girlfriend; though his distraction was caused by someone he enjoyed spending time with. He was glad that Mycroft had not deduced the real truth but was rather displeased with his brother's assumption. Now he would have to find someone to act as his girlfriend for a night.

That would be a challenge seeing as no girl, Sherlock's actual girlfriend or not, would make it past a dinner with the Holmes'. In fact Mycroft's girlfriends hadn't made it past the first course. Though that was expected of the girls that Mycroft brought home. He only succumbed to the wishes of one of his many admirers when Mummy started asking why two such handsome boys such as her sons would not be having girls over every night.

The truth in their case was that the Holmes brothers were truly indifferent to having relationships at all. Mycroft, much more the gentleman than his younger brother, had many more friends than Sherlock did though Sherlock was indeed very handsome. He was tall and thin. His dark curls framed his sharp face and his eyes were cruelly beautiful. Sometimes they were alive and as dangerous as a roaring sea and others they were like the entire ocean had frozen over mid-storm. Many girls did admire him for it, despite his sharp tongue, but Sherlock did not even notice.

The only thing that mattered to Sherlock most of the time was his experiments. His family could hardly put up with them but Sherlock mused that one day he'd get his own flat and find someone to share it with that would at least tolerate them.

Mycroft folded his paper over and got up. Sherlock followed suit, grabbed his coat, turned up the collar to the cold, and trudged out into the snow. The chauffeur opened the door for him and Mycroft and they sped off. Mycroft reopened his paper but Sherlock just stared out the tinted windows. He had always liked how the world looked from inside the family cars.

The dark glass muted everything that happened outside. The roaring wind was reduced to a faint murmur and it was as if a vast distance separated Sherlock from the rest of the world. That was how he liked it. The distance was comfort to him and that was how he viewed most things. It was as if nothing could affect him, nothing could touch him, and this glass armor protected him. This aloneness was what Sherlock had.

Other people did not understand Sherlock's need for that distance. They didn't get how anyone could be so cold and uncaring but Sherlock grew up learning that caring was no advantage. As much as people at school were averse to Sherlock's strange ways, Mycroft was known as the Ice King. Even his voice had a level of detachment that Sherlock could not master. When things managed to pierce Sherlock's armor, he was more afraid of letting what was in his brain out rather than what was coming in.

There was only one person besides possibly his brother that Sherlock thought could ever understand him and that was John. John was in his year and incredibly short. He had a horrible taste in sweaters and a fascination in medical studies. Sherlock could listen to John go on about all there was to learn and to do as a doctor for hours. He had a certain sparkle in his eyes that captivated Sherlock. Sherlock was indeed being distracted by someone, that much was true, but that someone was John, not any random girl.

He did not think that he loved John in any physical way, nor did he think John thought of him that was either, but he felt something for him. John was the only one that took the time to get past Sherlock's icy exterior and reach the inner brilliance inside of him that burnt like a star. John often surprised Sherlock by complimenting what he could do with his mind and how he could deduct things. No one had ever done so before and Sherlock had made it a habit to keep his observations to himself… mostly.

There were a few people that he could not stand and regularly destroyed with detached interest. If Anderson ever so much as sneezed in his direction Sherlock was there to crush him. He analyzed every minute detail about him in seconds and before the entire class, Anderson's personal life was pulled and picked apart by Sherlock. The class liked watching Anderson be so brutally taken down for he was an idiot but they feared that Sherlock would turn on them next. Girls still swooned over him but they never actually made any attempts to know him.

John was the only one besides Anderson not amused by these verbal attacks. He was always quietly disapproving about them but never said anything. In a strange way, it gave Sherlock vicious pleasure to do that to people but the look in John's eyes made him hold his tongue most of the time. Anderson was always the exception.

The car pulled up to the school and Sherlock and Mycroft parted ways. Sherlock to the science buildings and Mycroft to government. John appeared next to Sherlock with a mug of coffee for both of them when Mycroft disappeared around the corner.

"I'm going to need your help John." John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock grinned. "I need to find myself a girlfriend."


End file.
